 I'm what most people refer to as a mountain man, you know, living off the land and working with my bare hands kind of stuff. I know, big shocker, the wild men have access to technology, well, we're not cavemen, just people who prefer living in the wilderness. I was always one of those people, until recently anyways. I lived in a small long cabin, cozy enough for a 34 year old man with a strange interest in carving and wood shopping. Now I wasn't completely out in the wilderness. There was a small town about 7 miles away, but still secluded enough to feel the peace and tranquility of living in nature. Not to mention secluded enough to be completely alone. Anyways, one night after finishing putting the chicken and roosters away, I sat on my porch enjoying the stars and moon. I lit my pipe and then I heard the strange sound, almost like a mix of a bird cooing and a chirping grasshopper. Seeing as how I was the only home for miles, I chalked it up to animals. I mean, what else could it be, right? As strange as the sound was, it was also kind of soothing. After listening for a moment, the whistling stopped quite abruptly. It was strange, the moment the whistling ended, so did the rest of the world's sounds. I couldn't hear the wind blowing or the running stream out back. It was as if someone had hit the mute button on my property. It was so quiet that I could have easily mistaken my breathing for a wailing beast. But just as I was about to question my sanity, suddenly the sounds of nature returned. I put my pipe out and I made my way back inside. After making myself a nice, hearty meal, you'd expect a wild man to eat lots of meat along with a nice, hefty glass of bourbon. I began cleaning my kitchen and as I was about to wrap the leftovers, the cuckoo clock above my stove began, well, cooing. Now, that doesn't sound like anything crazy. But the thing is, that clock has been busted for years. It's been nothing more than a wall decoration. Come to think of it, it sounded like that whistle I'd heard moments before my dinner. And then, once again, it ended. For a few moments, so did my hearing. I chalked it up to a long day of labor, so I decided I'd hit the hay, and that's when things got weird. As I awoke and prepared myself for another day of hard work, I noticed something. The dinner from last night, the one I never got to finish wrapping, was completely gone off the plate. I tried to reason with myself that maybe I had finished it, but yet the plate and saran wrap were both sitting out there on the counter. I'm not normally a superstitious person, so I again reason with myself that I had finished it before having the chance to wrap it. After all, that glass of bourbon was pretty large, so I brushed it off and went on my day. I went to let out my poultry for feeding. When I saw, well, a pretty messed up sight, my chickens had been butchered. It wasn't the fact my chickens were dead that made me so unsettled. I mean, I've lost plenty of them to wild animals looking for something to eat. But that's the thing, none of my chickens had any signs of being eaten. They were all mutilated. Some were impaled along the picket fence used to keep them in, and not neatly. They were torn up and mutilated. Two of them were completely hollowed out, no bones, no organs, no muscle tissue. It was no more than an empty sack of chicken skin. Whatever did this wasn't looking for a meal. After that, I decided some precautions needed to be taken, so I took a trip down to town. Luckily for me, a technical store was open not too long ago, so I decided I'd purchase some security cameras. Hey, you're that wild forest dude who lives in the woods, right? The young clerk asked as he rang up my items. He had to be no more than 18. The classic old enough to grow facial hair, but not enough to grow a full beard look. Rungee hippie clothes, and he gave off a strong aroma of purple haze and pineapple express. I let out a laugh as I reached for my wallet. I didn't know I had that much for reputation. He returned my laughter and quickly replied, dude, you're a legend round school. Everyone out here is too formal, you feel me? You though, living off the land, doing things with your own two hands? That shit's hardcore, bro. He exclaimed, almost as a fanboying over me. I looked at his shiny name tag, which read, Spliffy. I chuckled at it. I proceeded to complete my transaction. When he asked me, what's with all the tech then? Been hearing some noises from the woods, not like anything I've heard before. Messed up some of my birds pretty bad, I said, as I handed the boy my credit card. So, just some weird sounds then? He continued, running my card through the scanner. After a brief pause, I decided to mention the strange anomaly of the world going mute. Well, it's not exactly a strange noise, just a whistle. But for some reason, every time the whistling stops, I can't hear anything. When I said that, Spliffy got rather concerned. Dude, you're dealing with a wood stalker? I raised my eyebrow. A what? He got eager, no doubt ready to tell me of what I could only assume was a cryptid, which, of course, he did. A wood stalker, or a tree skin prowler as it's known in Indian folklore, it's believed that they were said to be the great omen for forest and woodland areas. I looked at the boy, before beginning to ask my own questions. I tried to convince myself that I was simply indulging his tale, but deep down a part of me believed it could be what I was dealing with. So, then what's with the whistling? He continued as he began bagging my items. Well, according to the Native Americans, whenever hunters or gatherers would go for an expedition and never return, it was followed by a long whistle, which was then followed by complete silence. The Indians tried connecting the dots, and they came to the conclusion that the whistle would come either right before or after disposing a victim. Well, I'll keep a look out for walking trees, then. I laughed as I placed my card back in my wallet and grabbed my items. Yeah, man. Good luck. You're gonna need it. He said rather seriously. I left and entered my truck, the whole ride debating this wood stalker, and then my sanity for even entertaining the idea. I arrived home and got to work on setting up the cameras, making sure to put an extra behind the house towards the woods. The rest of the day went completely fine, assuming I'd scared off whatever creature was around. I enjoyed a nice meal and a tall glass of ale, and it wasn't until later that it all went wrong. I awoke to the sound of my dog, Curtis, barking violently, once again followed by the now disturbing whistles and its preceding silence. I instantly ran to my camera monitors and witnessed the strangest thing. Curtis had to be sitting at the edge of the tree lines, just sitting there for three hours. It wasn't until I saw a rustling in the woods that he started barking, and then he ran in. I grabbed my rifle along with a box of shells and I rushed to the door. Curtis was the only family I had, and I'd be damned if I was gonna let some tree monster take him. I burst it open the back door, damn near busting it off its hinges and made a break to the woods. After about 10 minutes, the whistling returned louder than ever before. Despite the following silence, I could see the bushes tussling in front of me. I raised my rifle and out came Curtis. I took a quick sight of relief and I went to pet him. However, he just kept running back to the house. Before I could even follow, I heard another whaling, but it wasn't anything from a monster or an animal. It was a human cry. I rushed towards the sound. I wasn't about to let someone die on my property. The screaming got louder and louder till I finally reached the source. It was the kid from the electronic store. He'd been completely mutilated. His chest was caved in, his legs were broken to hell, looked like a graph, and his left forearm had been laying on the right side of his body. I rushed over to the kid, kneeling down to comfort him. Let's be honest, there's no way he was gonna make it out of these woods alive. Christ, kid, what are you doing out here? You knew what was out here. He wheezed, coughing up thick red blood, wanted to help. He said, between blood-gargled coughs, he reached up with his one still-attached arm and grabbed my collar. He pulled me close, you need to run. He whimpered, and then I heard that same haunting whistle. It was coming from directly behind me. I turned around, quickly stumbling back as I came face to face with it. The thing looked like something straight out of Lord of the Rings. Broken twigs and branches twisted to make the form of the creature's body. It's cracked, jagged bark seeming to form some kind of scales or armor or something. The most disturbing part was its face, the same one I'd just been looking down at. And no, this isn't some leather face situation. The thing didn't steal the kid's face, more like copied it. It had been carved into some sort of tribal mask and it was disturbingly accurate. You could even see the pain and suffering on the boy's wooden face. I was stuck on my ass, paralyzed from fear as this thing slowly lumbered towards me, snapping wood echoing through the woods with each motion. As I slowly began to push myself away from the creature, I was reminded I wasn't completely screwed. I remembered my rifle. I quickly scooped it up, aiming for the beast, and I fired. I hit it, and it recoiled, letting out a hiss of pain. Seeing as it actually had an effect, I continued to fill it up with buckshot, till there was a pile of empty shells at my feet. Not wanting to test fate, I ran back home. I called the police, and when they arrived, I brought them to where it all had happened. The boy's body was still there, but not the creature's, not even a branch left behind. They chalked it up to a rather gruesome bear attack. I wasn't going to argue them on it. What would have happened if I told them the truth anyways? Probably would have put me behind bars, or maybe even a padded wall. I've moved to the city since then, a decent apartment on a really high floor, and far away from any forest. That thing is still out there. And something tells me. It might still be on my trail.